Pretty Boy.

Disgusting.

I woke up in my bathtub, in nothing but my boxers. It seemed like every single part of my head was throbbing. I remember drinking more, and I feel as if once I lost memory of what I was doing I drank even more. All I know is I'm in a bathtub covered in my own vomit and half naked.
My phone is on the floor by the tub, and I feel my brain throb especially hard this time
"Fuck. God fuckin- shit. Fuck." A trail of curse words pour from my mouth and I check my recent calls.
It looks like I called four different people, but in total there's sixteen calls.
I called Taylor's mom twice
I called Taylor's phone eight times
There's four calls to the hospital, and it makes me feel nauseous, but not quite as nauseous as seeing the next two calls I made. One was declined, the next was answered. The call time reads one hour twenty minutes. My head begins to spin and I hop out of the tub, rushing myself to the toilet. My body empties the food I can't even remember I ate and I sit over the toilet for a good fifteen minutes to make sure I'm done rejecting everything that's gone into my body. I pick up the phone again and I rub my temples, letting out a distant frustrated sigh. Me and Taylor have been together for about a year and a half. But before Taylor there was another guy, and I thought I was over him. I thought I was done thinking about him. I want to know what we talked about. While I start to type a message to him I realize my thoughts getting jumbled up. I delete the message, and start again. I repeat the process seven times before I get what I actually want to say. Or the closest thing to it, I guess.
'Hey. Sorry about last night I got fucked up. What all did we talk about lol'
I spice it up with the lol, makes things sound a little less... I don't know. Clingy, I suppose, it brightens the mood. I hit send and look at myself in the mirror. I look pathetic.
I take my boxers off and throw them to the wall in the bathroom getting in a shower and cleaning myself up.
When I get out of the shower I notice my phone vibrate and I figure it's just a facebook notification, but it rings again right after.
Fuck. It's not a notification it's a call. I dry off my body real quick and grab my phone to look at the caller id. It's him. It's really him. We haven't had a conversation-at least one I was aware of us having-since a month after me and Taylor had gotten together. I slide on the screen to answer the call
"Hey Ja-"
"Marcus what the fuck"
"I-I know okay, calm down."
"You're drinking again? I yelled at you for it yesterday but you were literally so fucked up you couldn't remember it Marcus I am fucking furious."
"I didn't answer the phone to be lectured Jacob I-"
"I don't care what you answered for. Is it because of Taylor? I told you I was better than him. He isn't worthy of being with you Marcus. He's a piece of shit and I fucking told you that you should've stayed with me but you had to run off and be the whorish twink you are." I feel my blood start to boil up in my veins. I can't believe I ever thought I was in love with him. I can't believe I still miss him sometimes. Why does he have me so wrapped up in his nonsense?
"Jake it's not him I swear to god if you blame it on him I will actually hit you, I'm not afraid of you anymore."
"So you'll actually stand up for yourself now, impressive."
"I guess. It's not because of Taylor. Its- I mean... I don't know. He went to a mental hospital, he's staying for half a year and I don't, I. I kind of lost control of myself I guess I'm not sure. I'm still working my feelings out"
"So it is because of Taylor. And his pussy actions. I warned you about this."
"Jacob Charles I know where the fuck you live and I won't hesitate to fucking break your nose."
"Then come here. I dare you." I haven't heard his bitter voice in so long. And I haven't seen his face in even longer, and hearing him give me an opening to hit him felt somehow relieving. I've wanted to do this for the past three years. I hang up the phone after A while of silence. He should know I'll be on my way, he's dealt with me before. I look at myself in the mirror again, fixing my hair up. I get dressed, go to my shit bag of a car and head out.
On the way there my hands keep clenching up, hard enough to make my hands hurt. I haven't seen him in so long. I want to fuck him up but I don't even know how I'll genuinely react to seeing his face. He makes me mad enough. I should be able to hit him no problem.
*          *          *
I'm at his house. I still have a house key from when we were together in my glove box, I don't know why I've always kept it but I guess it comes in handy now. He's been living on his own for a while now and his house isn't completely shitty. It makes me mad how all together his life is sometimes. I don't get it, because he's such a terrible person.
You love him.
I mumble fuck off to my own intrusive thoughts and grab the key, letting myself into the house. He's standing in front of me, still a few inches taller than I am.  My entire body tenses up and I go to slap him, I guess my body wasn't ready for a punch. He takes it well and looks at me raising an eyebrow.
"Hm. Well you almost did it." Jacob raised a hand to his cheek and rubbed it a bit, he seems almost underwhelmed and it bothers me. He acts like he planned this out. Maybe he did, he always gets his way anyway. He reaches behind me and closes the door. Fuck. He did plan it out. He walks towards me, putting his hands on my waist and trapping me between the small area that blocks off the doorway from the living room.
"I'm glad you're here" he whispers, leaning his head down to my neck and kissing it. I feel like there's a bunch of ants crawling in my skin. I miss this I. No, I hate this. My hands ball up into fists and I push him away from me.
"Jacob I'm done with this! I'm- I'm done with you and how fucking... manipulative and shitty you are I'm fucking. I'm f- I.." I feel tears streaming down my face and I feel even weaker than I did yesterday. I'm going to break with Taylor being away like this.
"Still feeling feisty I guess. Sit down I'll make you tea." I don't want to be here any longer. But he's being polite I guess. It's probably just another trap but my mind has more power over my body and my mind is telling me to stay here, telling me something good will come of it even though it never works out like that. I make my way through to the couch and sit down, rubbing the tears from my face and catching my breath. I wish I never met Jake. Things would've been so much easier. So much happier. I wish Taylor was able to call me right now. If he was home, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have called Jake. How did I fuck up this badly?
I'm sorry Taylor. You deserve better.